Overcoming the Rage
by mjade24
Summary: Katniss brings Peeta and Haymitch with her into the woods outside District 12. Several unexpected events happen. Time frame is about 1 1/2 yrs after Katniss' exile and return to District 12, and after SLSF.  However, this can be read as a standalone.
1. Chapter 1

OVERCOMING THE RAGE

**Disclaimer: I claim no ownership to the characters depicted in this story. The Hunger Games trilogy and the characters therein, are all property of their creator, Suzanne Collins.**

**Thank you in advance for taking the time to read this. I hope you enjoy! Thank you to Danalos the Lady Chaos (.net/u/35728/) for being my beta reader.**

_**This story takes place about 1 ½ years into Katniss' exile and return to District 12, and also after the events of my previous story, Something Lost, Something Found. However, this can be read as a standalone story.**_

Chapter 1

"What are we doing again?" Haymitch asks as he trips over another broken branch. Haymitch isn't quite sober, but at least he's not completely incoherent. I've seen him in worse conditions and he's still able to perform basic duties, like walking, so he should be okay once we get to the fence.

"We need to make sure I can find her if something happens," says Peeta.

It feels strange, to bring someone, or should I say anyone, with me beyond the meadow, beyond the fence, into the woods. But ever since my unannounced all-day trip to the woods last week, he insisted that he come with me the next time I go hunting. "Katniss, obviously I'm not the best person to go hunting with," he said, "but would you please let me come with you the next time you go out? I'd go mad if something happened to you out there, and I wouldn't even know where to find you." I've seen him go mad before, and it wasn't something I'd want to see again. I told him that I wasn't sure if that was a good idea, that there are still many dangers out there that could be a problem for both of us if I were hindered by him or vice versa. I knew it wasn't something he'd want to hear, but I didn't want to lie to him.

"It's not like I'm going to out there armed with a paintbrush, Katniss," he said. "I just want to know that I can find you out there if anything happened. I promise. This is not going to be a regular occurrence. I know you don't need me to hunt with you." He said it cautiously, as if to make sure I understood he didn't want to take Gale's place. Gale, my hunting partner, or former hunting partner.

Gale is in District 2 now, or at least that's where he was the last I heard. I think about him sometimes when I'm hunting. I try not to, though, only because it causes a whole mountain of sadness to wash over me. It didn't used to be that way. When things were different, when there was still the reaping and The Hunger Games, we were as close as friends could be. He made me happy, smile even, when there really wasn't much to smile about during that time. We'd hunt together; share our game and whatever else we were able to get throughout the day. We'd talk a lot, sometimes he would rant about the Capitol and its barbaric ways and I'd listen. Back then, those were the only times I felt free, in a way.

But then I was reaped and things completely changed soon after. I didn't have the anger that fueled Gale to rebel and want to defeat the Capitol. I would've much preferred to be left to our own devices and continue living life the way we did, hunting beyond the meadow, trading in The Hob, having my mom and Prim with me. But complacency never wins and I was forced to fight, to fight for myself and those that I cared about. Even though we were victorious and had defeated the Capitol and many people's lives are all the better for it, I still lost. Now, I am glad I have been left alone to lead as normal a life as possible, even if it means being in exile.

No, I don't regret my ability to leave Gale behind, away from my current life. There's just too much hurt between us to pretend we were the same two people that found a way to survive together beyond the fence that surrounds District 12. He knew that, which is why he left the way he did. Without so much as a goodbye. I don't hate him, though, but we no longer needed each other to move on. I found Peeta, and Gale found… what? Retribution? Vengeance? Who knows? I do hope he found, or finds, peace. Maybe love, even.

"Okay," I told Peeta. I agreed to it last week, but now I'm having second thoughts. Would this be safe? "Let's bring Haymitch, too," I suggested. Peeta looked like he was about to object to the idea, but instead agreed to it, telling me that we had to ask him first.

So, here I am, about to go under the now unelectrified fence and into the woods, with Peeta and Haymitch in tow. It's weird how I still check the fence to hear for the buzzing sound of electricity, knowing that ever since we've come back, it hasn't been turned on. Force of habit, I suppose. We are no longer bound in by the confines of this fence in District 12, but still, hardly anyone goes out into the woods, especially when food has become more readily available on a regular basis from other Districts and the Capitol, and also when it's the coldest time of the year. Winter. Luckily, it's not the coldest winter we've ever experienced, and in actuality, it's quite warm today, which is probably a good thing. There still is snow, but it's not snowing now and there are patches of brown and green around the woods.

"Maybe I didn't clarify, what am _I_ doing here?" Haymitch emphasizes. He is not enjoying himself in the least, but Peeta allows him to gripe, because a griping Haymitch gives both of us a little break from the tension that we feel as we start in the woods.

"C'mon Haymitch, this is good for you! We all need some time away our homes, to breathe the fresh air, take in the beauty of the trees," counters Peeta. Haymitch just mumbles something under his breath about seeing enough beauty to last a lifetime. I wonder if he's thinking about his time in the Hunger Games. It was the 50th Hunger Games, also known as the 2nd Quarter Quell, and there were twice as many tributes in that game than usual. 48 tributes, to be exact. The arena during that game was the most beautiful anyone had ever seen. It didn't take too long to figure out all that beauty was a façade, that everything living in there was out to kill you. Maybe Haymitch doesn't trust the beauty of the trees. I've never seen him be in awe of anything.

Ironically enough, Peeta did bring along a brush and a small tube of orange paint. He wants to mark some of the trees along the path to avoid getting lost if he ever has to go in here again to look for me. I doubt he would have to, but I don't tell him to stop marking the trees. It's like a way to reassure him that I allowed him into this place, my hunting grounds.

After about an hour of trekking through the woods, I decide we can stop for a break. There's a little clearing with some large rocks around it, so we sit there. Peeta's sitting next to me on the largest rock, while Haymitch plops himself down on the bottom of a tree. He looks miserable, exhausted, and annoyed, but he doesn't say anything. Peeta takes off his pack and opens it to reveal a fresh loaf of bread. He breaks off a piece for each of us to eat. It's full of grain and seeds and has the scent of cinnamon and dill on it. We each take a sip from our water containers. For a few minutes, we just sit there in silence, listening to the wind rustling through the leaves, or the flaps of wings first on one branch about my head, then on another branch about 2 yards away. I look up to see if it's what I think it is. Sure enough, it's a mockingjay. There are several of them around on various branches in the trees surrounding us. I whistle a tune. A four-note tune, the same four notes that little Rue used to whistle when it was time to end the harvesting for the day back when she was in District 11. The mockingjays listen, and then a chorus of the same tune goes around and around, making their own song.

Haymitch looks at me from across the clearing and says, "Geez, girl, you are a freak of nature."

I give a half-serious scowl in his direction, but Peeta just laughs and nudges me with his shoulder before he plants a playful kiss on my temple. "You're perfect," he says. My scowl fades.

"So, this is what you do when you go hunting? Sit here and whistle to the birds?" Haymitch spouts in irritation.

"No," I retort. What's with him anyway? "Sometimes, but not if I'm really hunting."

"Right, no hunting today, because who can hunt when you have two useless victors with you," he says with a biting sarcastic tone that I haven't heard from him before. "I don't know why you dragged me with you two anyway. What am I, your mentor for life? You don't need me anymore, or haven't you figured that out yet? Are you just trying to include me into your games?" Then he changes his voice to a higher pitch, obviously to mimic me, "Yeah, poor old Haymitch, let's bring him along so we can flaunt our emotions in front of him, too! He doesn't have anyone anyway." He yells up toward the sky now, like Johanna Mason did in the arena at our Quarter Quell. "Yeah, I sure don't!" Yelling as if there's a camera on him showing all of Panem of his displeasure. But there is no camera. There's no one but me and Peeta and the mockingjays.

We're speechless. I never thought about it that way. I never thought Haymitch would come to resent being around us. I thought he enjoyed our company, eating with us at times, even playing chess every once in a while with Peeta. I don't know what prompted this outburst of frustration. It's not like I've never seen Haymitch mad, but his anger seems more directed now at both of us instead of just me. The branch that Haymitch had in his hand has now been thrown several yards from the clearing. I'm again holding Peeta's hand, white knuckled, unsure of what to do now. Do we go to him? What do we say? Peeta, of course, makes the initial move.

"Haymitch-," he says cautiously.

"Forget it. Just… leave me alone for a second," and he walks away, following the path of the thrown branch.

We give him a second. We give him as many seconds as it takes for him to come back. When he comes back, I try to look at his face, but he's looking downward, as if to look at where he's stepping, making sure he doesn't trip over anything. Then he stops in front of us, with a determined expression on his face, like he has something important to say. What's interesting is that he's looking at me.

"I had a girl once, yes. Sylvia. I was gonna marry her. She was the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. For me, she was everything. She was perfect," he glances at Peeta. "Long, red hair and beautiful green eyes. She definitely didn't look like any of us. She was unique. We spent hours together just talking about stuff, what we liked, what we didn't like, our families, school." He pauses, as if struggling to pull out the memories he'd been hiding for so many years, and then looks up around us. "She sometimes would talk about running away into these woods, away from District 12. She would talk about it every year, right before the reaping. But she knew we couldn't just leave. I had family, she had family. It would be too hard to hide all of us. Then one year, my name was called…" he stops.

I don't know why he's telling this to us now. It seems an odd situation and place to start opening up about his past, but whatever the reason, I'm not sure if I want to hear more. Even though we never asked him to, and Haymitch is freely telling us of his own accord, I still feel like I'm intruding in his past, looking into something I shouldn't be looking into. But I continue to listen, to find out where this is all leading to, because if I know Haymitch, there's a point to this. Or is he finally willing to be vulnerable?

"Yeah, I was only 16 years old at the time, but I had my life set and Syl was it. Just like you, Peeta. I knew she was it for me," says Haymitch.

I guess she knew it, too. They had planned for their future already. I wonder, had I gotten to know Peeta years earlier, before our names were called in the reaping, if I would've made plans for a future with him, to marry him and have children with him. Probably not. Maybe that's why I never made an effort to make many friends at school. We were all on the list of potential people to be reaped. To make friends with anyone at that time was just another possibility of losing someone you cared about. Madge was a perfect example, and she was the mayor's daughter. You would've thought that gave her an advantage, but no, she died like most of the others in District 12. It didn't matter if you were on the better part of the district or if you were in the Seam.

No, I wouldn't have planned any future with anyone. I didn't with Gale and he was my best friend. I guess you can never plan when to fall in love, though. Sometimes it just happens, sometimes it just creeps up on your before you realize it. I guess like Haymitch with Sylvia. Or like Finnick with Annie. And like me with Peeta, too. I'm just lucky enough to still have him with me.

"Then Mimi called my name," Haymitch continues. Mimi was Haymitch's escort from the Capitol, like Effie Trinket was to me and Peeta. "But I didn't cry about it. No, actually, I had already planned it out in my head. I was going to play this game and I was going to win. I wanted to win. I had to win, for Syl, because I was going to have her marry me and live with me in the Victor's Village and we wouldn't have to worry anymore about anything," Haymitch shakes his head, conceding to the fact it was all futile.

Haymitch had his idea planned from the beginning. He knew he was smart enough to win, and he was determined enough. He had the love of his life to think about. Haymitch played the game because of love. And he won. Unfortunately, he was too smart for the Capitol and he broke the rules. I mean, there really were no set rules in the Hunger Games, but if you played it and gotten something out of it that they hadn't planned, that they thought could threaten or undermine their authority, that's just something they couldn't let you get away with. They certainly didn't with Haymitch. His girl, Syl, along with his mother and brother, were killed two weeks after he won the games.

"I would've married her as soon as I got the chance. I would've," says Haymitch to no one in particular. He's no longer looking at us, because his body's turned away from us. "And you two, I don't even know what you two are. Are you for real or are you still playing a game?"

"We love each other," Peeta says. "That's real." Peeta squeezes my hand reassuringly and Haymitch turns around again to look at us, his gray Seam eyes looking directly at me. I don't flinch and the expression on his face eases just slightly. He nods.

"Good. Love each other, then," and then he turns to leave.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you in advance for taking the time to read this. This chapter is a little longer than the previous, but I hope you enjoy it all the same! Thank you to Danalos the Lady Chaos for being my beta reader.**

Chapter 2

In the Games, it was such an advantage to know what Haymitch was trying to tell me. Now, I find it annoying that I have an idea of what he's leading to by just a staredown. It's more than annoying, it's intrusive and rude. What does it matter to him, right? It's my business, it's my life. I certainly don't need anyone telling me how I should live it, especially if it's with Peeta. That's already been forced before on me. Yeah, I knew exactly what he was getting at. I shake my head ever so slightly. He wants me to marry Peeta.

I look at Peeta and he turns his head to me, his blue eyes brighten as the corners of his mouth turn upward, but he doesn't say anything. He pulls my head down slightly with his free hand and kisses my forehead. Maybe he finally can see it and knows what Haymitch is trying to tell me, trying to tell us. I'm not sure what to say.

There's no question anymore of my love for Peeta, but I never really thought about marriage. Even when I did, it was just a passing thought, an idea that bounced in and out of my head. I guess I chose not to give it any thought, because really, I had never planned on being married before. Ever since my dad's death, maybe even before then, the thought of marrying anyone was never a consideration. Not with the Hunger Games always looming over our heads. I had no wish to take part in any union, and I certainly couldn't consider it even after I had passed the age of eligibility. Marriage meant children and I would not bring a child into this world knowing that my child could be a tribute in the Games, and possibly die. Not only die, but die violently in front of the whole of Panem. I would not do that to my child. So, why even marry anyone, right?

But the Hunger Games are no more. After I assassinated President Coin, it was agreed that there would be no such games, nor any form of entertainment having to do with punishment or suffering for anyone, including the Capitol people, who've never had to participate in the Hunger Games before. Even to this day, there is still dissension on that agreement, but it has been decreed as such by the new government.

So, really, there is no reason why I shouldn't want to marry the one I love. Yet, the thought of marrying Peeta doesn't make my heart skip a beat, doesn't get me giddy with joy, albeit it's not that I've ever had giddy moments in my life. The thought of marrying Peeta… frightens me. I'm not sure why at first, but I work my way through a conclusion that I hadn't thought of before. I'm scared for Peeta. I'm scared that if he asks me, that he will realize what a fool he was for wanting to marry such a messed up girl. That he'll see how much of a terrible person I am and that he'll change his mind, and I'll lose him forever. If we were to get married, will I be able to meet his expectations of how a wife should be? Will he really want to be with me always? Will I be able to give him what he wants? What he wants.

I know what Peeta wants. He wants children. I can see the glow in his eyes when he's playing with Greasy Sae's granddaughter, Meena. It's a look of joy that's only displayed for the little girl. It's such a peaceful, sincere look that even I can't get from him. Can I provide him that? A child of our own? My heart races with anxiety just at the thought of it. Do I want to? No. The idea is still abhorrent to me, even now. What if things were to change again? What if the dissension in the Capitol and some of the other districts turn things back and we're forced to deal with the Hunger Games, or an even worse form of it? I can't, I won't, have my child be a part of it. I shake my head, trying to shake out those thoughts, those images, trying to make everything in my mind stop repeating over and over again like some kind of spun wheel.

I grip tight Peeta's hand. "Peeta –" I pause. He stops and looks at me, concern in his face. I look past him to see if Haymitch is near us to hear, but he's about 10 yards away, walking some different direction from where we came.

"What?" he asks.

I don't look at him when I ask. "You want to marry me, real or not real?"

He sighs. "Katniss, I want to be with you for every moment of my life." He shrugs. "It's kind of a given that I want to marry you, isn't it?"

"Yes, I guess so," I say.

"But?" he asks. He knows I'm holding something back.

"I've never had to actually consider this before, being married. I never wanted to be married… with anyone." I avoid saying Gale's name, but he knows who I mean. "I... don't… know… if I can give you what you want?"

Peeta takes a deep breath and grabs me by the shoulders. "Look at me," he says with a stern but quiet voice. I hesitate, unsure of if I want to hear what he has to say next. "Please, Katniss." My eyes slowly turn up to meet his. "I will say this as many times as I have to to get it through your thick skull," he says in a somewhat unapologetic tone. "You. Are. All. That I. Want. You." It's like a command, and I have to believe him. I do believe him. And yet, I still shake my head.

"And children? Don't you want that, too? What if I can't give that to you?" I ask.

Maybe he's starting to feel how tense this conversation has gotten. He says with casualness, "Well, from what I know, the procedure to conceive a baby is apparently not all that difficult, and actually quite pleasant to –"

"Peeta, what if I _don't_ want children? _Ever?_" I ask. He's still holding me by the shoulders, but his grasp has loosened. He closes his eyes and drops his head as he takes another deep sigh. This is the deal breaker. I've finally convinced him that I'm not the one for him. I can never truly make him happy, especially if children are no longer an option. He would be a great dad, I know it. But I can't be the mother of his children and I think it's finally hit him. How can he make a life with someone that doesn't want to share in the joy of parenthood with him? He has now realized that he can't. I realize something else, though. Now I'm scared to death that I've lost him again. What have I just done? I just gave the only man I've ever loved a reason to leave me, that's what I've done. I'm an idiot.

I want to run, scared that Peeta will agree with me and then tell me that this thing, our relationship, is over. But despite the feeling of despair beginning to overtake body, I know I can't just leave Peeta here in the woods. We're not too far in where the larger flesh eaters are, but he doesn't know his way around and the last thing I would dare do is leave him here, in unfamiliar and dangerous territory. So, instead, I step back, allowing his hands to fall from my shoulders and start going the direction of where Haymitch went.

I have barely taken a step when Peeta catches my arm and suddenly pulls me to him and kisses me longingly. When he pulls away, the expression on my face gives him a chuckle. "You really think that's going to scare me off?"

"Peeta, I'm serious," I say.

"So am I," Peeta says back. He has me so close to his face, I can see the striations in his blue eyes. "Do you think that's all I want you for? Katniss, we've been through hell and back these past 3 years. We've both given so much of ourselves, and we've both lost so much. I don't want to lose you, too. " He kisses me again, but lightly. "Besides, if I can't have children with you," he gives a little shrug as he continues, "then I can't have children. Period."

It's a lot to put on me, really. I feel guilty for some reason. He still wants children, but only with me. Is that fair to him? I don't think so, but I know that it's probably pointless to argue with him about it further, especially when he's standing so close to me, giving me all kinds of warmth, both physically and emotionally. I smile and accept more of his kisses before I wrap my arms around him.

"Okay," I say.

"Okay?" he asks.

"Yes, I want to marry you," I whisper in his ear. I do want to marry him, because even though I feel guilty about the possibility of our future being childless, I don't think I can bear to be without Peeta. Although we already spend almost every moment we can together, there was always that feeling of us being two completely separate people. Maybe marriage is one way to fix that. And what is there to fear about marriage anymore? The life we grew up with is different. I no longer have to guard myself of being close to anyone for fear of losing them because of the Capitol, or of President Snow, or of the Hunger Games. None of that exists anymore. We can now rebuild our lives away from all of that.

Peeta pulls back to look at me and his eyes are bright, almost gleaming. He looks as if he's about to burst, but instead steels himself. The corners of his lips turn upward as he asks me, "Are you sure?"

"I am," I say and smile and nod, trying to give him as much reassurance as possible.

All of a sudden, my feet are off the ground and Peeta's spinning me around in a circle. I do my best to hold on, and I'm laughing so hard that after two spins around, Peeta has to put me down to avoid falling completely to the snow-laced ground. It's an odd feeling, being literally lifted off my feet, again. The first time that I can remember that happening was with Gale. When was that? Two years ago? It seems like twenty years ago.

It was right after the Victory Tour. President Snow had made it clear that I was not able to stop the uprising from growing and he had made it clear that people would suffer, people that I cared about and loved. I had suggested the plan first to Gale to leave District 12 and start a new life in the woods. Gale was all too happy to oblige, and lifted me up, spinning me around just like Peeta had done. I was happy then, too, thinking that I could gather everyone that I loved with me. Then I mentioned that Haymitch and Peeta come along, too. Of course, it didn't occur to me at the time that he would have a major problem with that, but considering that Peeta and I had just become engaged in front of all of Panem during the tour, it wasn't the best situation to put out in front of Gale. Add to that my account of witnessing an uprising on the Mayor's television, and I had pretty much set forth the end of any ideas of running away.

The circumstances are completely different now. No thoughts of running away. Almost the opposite, when you think about it. It's the thought of staying, staying together to be precise. I don't think I could be any happier than at this moment.

It takes a few more minutes of us hugging and kissing to realize that we did not come alone in this trip to the woods, so we go off in search of Haymitch, to let him know of our sudden and joyful news. I lead us into the path where I last saw Haymitch go. Normally, in the woods, what with all the flesh eaters around, I would tread cautiously, try to be as silent as a mouse. But today, since it's basically only a trek through the woods, I don't bother to silence my steps and I even start calling out Haymitch's name. Peeta follows.

I didn't realize that Peeta's and my conversation had gone on long enough for Haymitch to be so far ahead of us, but after 5 minutes of searching, I finally spot him, 20 yards off of where our original path was. I don't notice it at first, the stillness of Haymitch's body. I grab hold of Peeta's hand, ready to share in our news.

"Haymitch, we have –" I start.

"Shhh!" Haymitch says in a harsh but quiet tone. I stop us, and notice that something is wrong. I see Haymitch looking up at something, something in the branches. When I follow his gaze, I tense up, my grasp tightens around Peeta's hand. There, about a yard away and twenty feet up is a nest, a hive, really, and it's hanging precariously. A tracker jacker nest.

I haven't seen a tracker jacker nest since my first Hunger Games, but they are not uncommon here in the woods. Gale and I have run across a few during our hunts before, but we were always careful not to disturb them and to go immediately in the opposite direction. Tracker jackers' poison can be deadly and even if you did not die, you would be victim to hallucinations that feed on your fears if you were stung by them. I had first-hand experience with them when, in my attempt to cut down a nest of tracker jackers down onto the Career tributes who were trying to kill me, was stung three times. A couple of the Career tributes, Glimmer from District 1, and the girl from District 4 were killed almost instantly by them. The rest of them were stung a few times also, but were able to avoid death by jumping into the lake. Peeta was one of them. _Peeta!_

Only then do I feel the immense pain searing through my right hand, the hand held by Peeta. I turn to look at him, but his head is down and I can tell his eyes are squeezed shut. Does he even know how hard he's squeezing my hand? Is he remembering what happened? I know that was one of the things he did remember during his rehabilitation in District 13. I can see the muscles in his neck and arms contract, as if he's trying his hardest not to explode.

"Peeta," I say with pain in my voice. "Peeta, my hand." He just squeezes it harder at the mention of it. A pained moan comes out of my lips. At that moment, his head goes up and his eyes pop open, blackness flushing out his blue irises, like darkness overtaking the light. He lets go of my hand and shoves me to the ground, hard. I'm on my back, and I see the rage in his face, just like I did back in District 2, back when Boggs' legs were blown away, when Mitchell was tossed into that pod net filled with the cutting barbed wire. Peeta was trying to kill me then, just like he's going to try to do now, and I'm pleading to him, yelling at him, trying to make him come back to his senses. He's hesitating, I can tell. His movements are slow, but he's still moving toward me. And all I can do is say, "Please, Peeta."

It happens in an instant. A thick branch swinging into the side of Peeta's head. Peeta's eyes close and his whole body goes limp, and falls to the ground, unconscious. I gasp, trying to comprehend what just happened. Then I see Haymitch, standing there in front of me with the branch in his hands. At first, I just stare at Haymitch, then we both look to Peeta, who's face forward on the ground. I'm on my knees next to him, turning him over gently and holding his face in my hands. Haymitch is kneeling on the other side of him. I quickly crouch down to put my head to his chest, to listen for his heart beat, and I'm begging him to please be alive. Please be alive. Please be alive. _Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump._ I exhale in relief.

Haymitch and I grab each arm of his and pull him up to move to a familiar path. We find the original path we were on and head towards the fence to get back to District 12. We're only able to go about 50 yards before the dead weight of Peeta's unconscious body tires us. It's going to have to do for now. At least it's closer to the perimeter, which means there shouldn't be any worries about the flesh eaters such as wild dogs, large cats, or bears roaming about. They tend to be in the deeper part of the woods.

After we set Peeta down against a rock, Haymitch curses under his breath. "Sorry, sorry, this time it's my fault," he mutters.

"It doesn't matter. You were right, we shouldn't have brought you," I say with more of biting tone than I had wanted it to sound, but part of me does blame him. Why did he venture off the path I laid out? Why did he stop and stare at the tracker jacker nest instead of just turning back around? Was he trying to stare it down or something? But it was all pointless to go on about it now. I just wanted to make sure Peeta was going to be okay.

Luckily, it's still early in the day, so we wait for Peeta to come to instead of trying to drag him back and through the fence on our own. It probably wouldn't be good on his artificial leg, either. I feel safe enough here in this part of the woods to wait it out. Haymitch keeps on pacing, though, and I wonder if he's that worried about Peeta or if he's aching for a drink. Probably both. I don't say anything to him, because I'm not sure what to say to ease his mind. I just tell him, "Haymitch, sit down." He does for a bit, but he gets up again in exasperation. Finally, Peeta stirs awake.

I don't hesitate. I'm already there, touching his face, pulling it to look at me. His eyes are back to normal, to the Peeta I know. But they are sad. "It happened again… didn't it?" I purse my lips. I don't say anything, but he knows by the look on my face that his assumption is right. Peeta puts his elbows on his knees and plants his head in his hands. His fingers running through his hair, pulling on it, then releasing it. I move down in front of him, grabbing his wrists, wresting his hands away from his hair so he can look at me.

"Peeta, this is not your fault. This doesn't change anything," I plead. But he doesn't say anything. He just looks at me with utter defeat. I want to say more, but I'm not sure what to say, except one thing. "I love you."

"I love you," he says. He's holding back his emotions, but he grabs my hands and kisses them. This is about all he can give me right now.

Peeta looks up at Haymitch, but nothing is said. Haymitch just reaches his hand out to Peeta, and as soon as Peeta grabs it, Haymitch pulls him up. "I'm sorry," Haymitch says.

Peeta shakes his head, "No, don't be. You did what you had to do." Then he pauses. "Wait, what did you have to do?"

"I knocked you out with a tree," Haymitch says.

"That explains the pounding on the side of my face," Peeta says. It's a weak attempt at being good-humored at best.

"A branch," I correct him.

"Whatever. We should probably take you to a doctor to make sure you're okay," Haymitch says.

"I think I'm as good as I'll ever be," Peeta says defeatedly. I get up from my position on the ground and pull at Peeta's arm.

"No, we should go," I say.

The walk back to the fence is solemn. Peeta insists that I take the lead, even though there's no danger of predators, or anything else, this close to the fence, but I know he's still wary of being too physically close to me. But I pretend to keep a lookout, bow and arrow in hand. I have to keep my hands occupied anyway, since what they really want to do is hold Peeta's.

Once we get back inside District 12, we head straight to the town square, where the new medical building has been built. Some weeks after my return from the Capitol, President Paylor had made it a point to start building essential facilities in each district. Of course, the mayors from each district had to agree to it, which they did, but it was basically more to establish new procedural methods for how Panem would be run.

For District 12, there really wasn't much left in the way of buildings. The ones we had were decimated when the Capitol bombed it. So, President Paylor specifically granted District 12 almost twice as many machines from the Capitol to start rebuilding practically everything from the houses to the Justice Building. Within the first few days, a dozen houses had gone up where the Seam used to be. Two weeks after that, more houses were built along with merchant businesses. Then a new school and a medical facility. The factory to make medicine was also about to start being built during this time, and scientists from other districts had moved in as well. Within six months, enough houses were built to accommodate roughly 500 people.

Before winter hit, it was estimated that about another three hundred people, including a few doctors and several nurses, moved into District 12. Some of them were even from Districts 1, 2, and 3, the districts that had the fewest hardships under President Snow's reign. Of course, it didn't really matter anymore what district you were from because nobody is confined within the walls of their districts. Except for me, that is.

After I killed President Coin, I was exiled to District 12. Some, mostly a faithful few from District 13, demanded my execution, but that idea was quickly shut down by almost everyone who was on the new President's committee, including President Paylor herself. I was their mockingjay, after all. I represented hope, freedom, rebellion. They agreed to keep me alive, and basically safe, in District 12. I suppose I would've stayed here anyway, had I actually been in a better state of mind. This is still my home, after all, even if it is my prison, too. It doesn't matter, though, as long as Peeta is with me. It can be a cave in a rock pile for all I care.

None of us had been inside the medical building before, but Peeta often passes it when he goes to the bakery. He has his own bakery now, which he opened only about a month ago. He's one of the few merchants that are actually originally from District 12. Most of the other merchants have moved in from other districts to try out their trade here, especially now that District 12 is one of those thriving Districts, what with everything being so newly built. Even so, I don't spend too much of my time around the town square. There's no Hob anymore to make trades, and no one hardly to trade with since we get sufficient supplies from all over as well as the Capitol now that free trade and transportation between districts is becoming more and more routine.

I keep to myself, but that doesn't mean I'm still not a topic of conversation, it seems. When we start making our way to the medical building, there are quite a few stares in our direction as we pass them. Even though I've had cameras and eyes on me during two Hunger Games, I'm not comfortable with all the whispers and glances, so I keep my head down. Peeta and Haymitch make their way on either side of me. I hardly need guarding, but I'm grateful for their closeness.

Once we get inside the medical building, we ask to see one of the doctors. There are a number of people sitting in the waiting room already, but the receptionist immediately says we can go in the through door that leads to the exam rooms. There's a nurse on the other side of the door, and she gives us a huge smile. I'm reminded of Effie Trinket and the way she would arrive on reaping day with her all-too-happy face as she called out the names of the tributes. I'm immediately annoyed by the nurse, even though she doesn't look like she's from the Capitol.

You can usually tell when a person is from the Capitol or if they're from the districts. Capitol people tend to have that affected accent that's so easy to mimic. Any part of their body, including their hair, is normally marked with various degrees of color or design. And their clothing is always something that seems unnatural in texture and often layered with different shiny or sparkly items. However, these days, Capitol people have made serious attempts to look like people from the districts, for fear of being slandered, to say the least.

The doctor tells Peeta that he should be fine, but to stay awake for at least eight hours just to make sure, and if he has any dizziness or nausea to come back. The doctor seems all too excited to see us, too, and makes no effort to hide is enthusiasm. Unfortunately for him, none of us are in any mood to amuse him.

After we leave the medical building, Peeta wants to stop by the bakery. "You go ahead," he says.

"You need to rest," I say, not wanting to let go of his hand.

"I'll be fine. I just want to make sure we have all the orders in," he tells me, though he's not looking directly at me, as Haymitch walks slowly off in the direction of the Victor's Village. "It won't take long."

I cautiously let go of his hand, as if I needed it to maintain my balance and now I have to stand on my own. I stand there for a few seconds as he turns the opposite direction to head toward the bakery. He doesn't even look back.

Even though Haymitch has already started off, I am able to catch up with him, then I keep his pace. We're at the Victor's Village before either of us says anything.

"Look, sweetheart –," he starts as we get closer to his house, but I stop him.

"Don't!" I say curtly. I'm startled at the volume of my voice, but I continue. "I don't want to hear how sorry you are, or that it's your fault, or whatever!" I really don't know why I'm yelling at him, and when I look up at him, I see real pain in his eyes. Now I'm the one who feels guilty. The problem is that I don't want to feel guilty for yelling at him. I don't want him to know that I do blame him, blame him for straying from the path, for knocking out Peeta, for telling us about Syl.

"Sorry. Maybe we both just need to rest," I say quietly. Haymitch nods and goes inside his home.

When I get to my house, I find it oddly quiet. It's early midday. Usually around this time I keep myself busy, working on something in the plant book, or the other book that tells about our time in the Hunger Games, but that's when Peeta's around. I am alone now. No, not just alone. I feel lonely.

I find my way to the sofa and my eyes gaze up at the ceiling. _What happened?_ The day has been mixed with emotions from extreme joy to extreme despondency. It was only suppose to be a trek through the woods. Then it became a story of love lost. Then an impromptu proposal of marriage. And finally an attack on my life, again. Can someone experience such turbulence of emotions all within half a day? I guess so.

I play the events of this morning over in my mind, trying to find out where it all went wrong. I thought I had made the proper precautions. All the primary precautions, at least. The path, our gear, our food supply. It didn't occur to me that anything in there would trigger such a reaction from Peeta. I was stupid to think not.

Our first Hunger Games took place in a forest…the woods. And at one point, I thought Peeta had joined with the Careers to actually try to kill me. I didn't realize then that he joined them to try to protect me. So, in my misunderstanding, I was convinced he was my enemy and thus, he had to be killed. My first opportunity was with a tracker jacker nest that Rue pointed out to me in a hanging branch above me, while I was held up in a branch of my own, above the Careers. I had cut it down so the tracker jackers could attack the Careers on the ground. Peeta was one of them. He had been stung a few times, as had I. I can only imagine the hallucinations he had experienced thereafter. How real, yet wildly glossed over, they seemed to be. I know they used that memory on him when he was hijacked.

So, of course, the sight of a tracker jacker nest was going to bring up those flashbacks. It must've been so powerful an image, a hijacked memory. The fear of me turning against him… of killing him, so much so that he had to fight back. How could I have been so absent-minded?

It wasn't entirely my fault. Haymitch was there. He was the one who led us astray. My mind turns its anger towards Haymitch now. If he hadn't gone astray, this wouldn't have happened. If he had just stayed with us, we all would've come back with nothing to worry about except probably when to set a date for our newly established upcoming nuptials.

I sit there, thinking of all the reasons that it's Haymitch's fault. I want to hate him, but something about that doesn't seem fair. _What was it he said before_, I think. _"Remember who your enemies are,"_ Haymitch said. Yes, he said that the night before Peeta and I were to go in the arena for the Quarter Quell. Remember who your enemies are. I do remember. And he's right.

It's not Haymitch's fault. It's not even my fault, although I could definitely find justifiable reasons to make it my fault. We didn't create tracker jackers. We didn't hijack Peeta. We didn't pit children against each other in a game of death for people's entertainment. We are not to blame. None of us are. My anger is now redirected to its final target. Snow. Even in death, President Snow still has an effect on my life. In Peeta's life. In everyone's life. I close my eyes, and I can see Snow's face, the smile he's giving me as he shakes his head ever so slightly, letting me and only me, know that I haven't done enough to stop the uprising in the districts.

No, I won't let him have the final say. Not anymore. Whatever is to come, nothing's going to stop me from being with Peeta. He's my life and I will do what I have to to help him. Whatever made up feelings I had for Peeta before doesn't matter. This is no longer the makings of a fake star-crossed lover tale. I understand what I feel now, and it's not because of any threat to my life or anyone's life, it's because I love Peeta. And I will marry him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you for continuing on with this story, and I hope you're enjoying it so far. Thank you to Danalos the Lady Chaos (.net/u/35728/) for being my beta reader. **

Chapter 3

All I see is gray. In the gray, there are silhouettes of people. I pass them by but I don't see their faces. I'm searching for Peeta, and I'm trying to call out his name, but for some reason I can't say it, as if an invisible force is holding my mouth silent. Then I see him, his back is turned to me, but I know it's him. I call out his name, but I can't hear myself say it. He turns around and sees me, but he turns back again, moving farther away. I try to run towards him, to stop him, but my movements are slow, almost as if my feet were stuck in some kind of mud, and the silhouettes are crossing me, blocking my view of Peeta. He is farther away now and Snow moves into my immediate path, his face directly in front of me. He is smiling and I jerk back as Snow's tongue, his snake tongue, flickers so close to my face. I feel his hands on my arms and they're pulling me closer to him, and I try to fight him off. His grip is so strong and he's shaking me.

"Katniss!" Snow is speaking my name, but it's wrong. It's not the snakelike hiss that I know his voice to be. No, this voice is familiar, kind even, soothing in its tone. It sounds like Peeta. "It's okay, Katniss. Shhh…" his voice is calming, and the image of Snow vanishes. Then my eyes flutter open.

Peeta is holding me by the arms, looking straight at me, his eyes wide with worry. It takes me a while to fully awaken, but when I do, I immediately pull him to me. My arms are tightly wrapped around him and I bury my face into his neck. I don't want to let go, but I know I have to eventually. We stay in this position for several seconds before he relaxes, loosening his grip on me.

"You okay?" he asks, his hands rubbing up and down my back, calming me.

I want to say yes, but something's bothering me. "I don't know," I say.

"It's okay, I've got you," he reassures me.

I notice the daylight from the window and realize it's later than it should be. "Peeta, did you just get here?" I ask.

I can feel his body tense up. "Yes," he says.

"Where were you?" I ask, pulling myself back to look into his face.

"I went home for a bit. I just needed to do something first. Took longer than I planned," he says, his eyes shifting from some spot on my shoulder to somewhere in back of me. When he finally focuses his eyes on me, he knows he can't stand to look at the expression on my face, which basically is a look of disappointment. Disappointment that he's hiding something from me. "I called Dr. Aurelius."

"Oh," I say quietly.

Dr. Aurelius, our head doctor who helped prevent me from being executed with his analytical summary of me at my trial. He also helped Peeta regain many of his real memories from before he was hijacked. It's only obvious why Peeta had called him.

Peeta does have moments when the flashbacks hit him, but usually he's able to control himself. But this morning in the woods, a place that could almost be a sister location to the arena of our first Hunger Games, confronted with a real tracker jacker nest, and me there alongside him - well, I might as well could've been the mutt he so often sees in his flashbacks. It was all too much for him to control. What could Dr. Aurelius have said about that? Don't go back in the woods? I could deal with that. Stop seeing me? Now, that is something far more devastating.

"What did he say?" I ask, trying to keep from sounding defensive.

"Let me just tell you first, that I know you already know it's not my fault. That I couldn't help it, but Katniss, I need to be able to control this… thing. I don't want end up one day waking from a haze and seeing you hurt, or even…" he can't say it, but I know.

"Peeta, you won't kill me," I tell him with complete sincerity.

He looks me straight in the eye. "You don't know that."

I look back at him, unflinching. "Yes, I do. You won't kill me," I say. It's my turn to take a deep breath. "What happened this morning, I admit, was a… setback of sorts. But I could see it in your eyes –"

"The change," he interrupts.

"No. Well, yes, and no. It was more like, a struggle. It's like you were still fighting it. And I know that, if Haymitch hadn't knocked you out, you still wouldn't have killed me. You would have stopped yourself, because you were fighting it," I say. And I know the words to be true. Even though I didn't realize it at that time, I remember it now. The large black pupils in his eyes shrinking to smaller ones, right before Haymitch hit him with the branch.

Peeta just shakes his head. "I don't know, Katniss. How can you be so sure?"

"Because you love me," I tell him, my hands making its way to his hands.

"I do," he says, "but that's why I feel like maybe I should take Dr. Aurelius on his offer."

I'm already shaking my head, as if I've already heard his full explanation. I don't have to, because whatever Dr. Aurelius is offering, Peeta's been hesitant to tell me, and I know it's not going to be anything good.

"He wants me to go to the Capitol to see him personally. To take some tests," he explains.

"No, no, you can't…" I sputter.

"Dr. Aurelius said it would only be for a day-" Peeta says. But I won't hear anymore.

Sometimes, on the mornings after a particularly bad nightmare, I imagine scenarios in my head, mostly of where Peeta is not with me, not in my life anymore. As if he's gone somewhere and hasn't come back, or he's dead, or situations like the one he's saying right now. And I've come up with a number of explanations on why this wouldn't be good. I think about how I'd feel or how I'd react to something like this, and it's never any good. I've come up with amazing speeches on the very subject, in case I would ever have the need to speak them out. This would be one of those moments where I can use one of my speeches, except, I'm having a hard time trying to even form words. The panic that I felt from the nightmare I just had is coming back.

"Don't go," I blurt out. "Don't. You know I can't go with you if you leave here. But I can't stay here if you go. I'll do something stupid… I'll end up… like Haymitch and drink to keep the nightmares away," I say, although I know white liquor never stopped Haymitch's nightmares. "Or what if I go in the woods and never come out? Or just starve to death because I can't imagine doing anything without you! Please, Peeta, you can't leave, it's not fair! I need you! I need you here, because… because… "

Peeta is already there to embrace me, to protect me from myself, from my hysterical rants. "Okay, okay. I won't go." I curl myself up in his arms, putting as much of myself in contact with him as possible. This is what I want. Peeta's warmth, his strength, his entire being.

I feel myself relax again. He's still embracing me, making sure I won't go off again, I suppose. I start rehashing the words that I spurted out just a few minutes ago, and all of a sudden, I feel ashamed. Ashamed that I sounded so pitiful, so weak, so dependent on him. It's not enough to make me change my mind and let him go so far away from me, but still, I wonder, why is it so hard for me to be away from him? Would I ever really do the things that I said I might do if anything were to happen to Peeta again? Would I end up like Haymitch? Or worse yet, like my mother, who, when my father died, became so catatonic to the point that she didn't care that her two daughters were literally starving to death before her? Am I that much like her? I would hate myself for ever being that way. But that's exactly the scenario I gave Peeta to imagine. What a horrible thing to do to someone you love.

"I'm sorry," I say as I get up slowly from the sofa, trying to resist the urge to fall back into his arms, into his warmth. "I shouldn't have said those things. I mean, I really don't want you to go, but I shouldn't make you feel like you have to stay because I would hurt myself in any way. I don't want you to think that of me."

I look out the window, my back to him and I hear him get off the sofa, and stand behind me. How long can I stand here without touching him, I wonder, knowing that he's so close to me. It's quiet for a while, but I wait for him. Maybe he's trying to find the right words to say.

"People used to tell me that I had my mother's eyes," Peeta starts. "I couldn't stand it when they said that, like they didn't see me as any good. Like they saw me the way I saw I mother, and what I saw in her… it wasn't nice. It wasn't pretty. A lot of times, it wasn't even tolerable. It was as if they were telling me, you're going to end up just like her," he says. It's like he's speaking to me in song. "I'd spend mornings sometimes trying to change how my eyes looked, to squint or widen them, just to make them look different. Later, I realized that I really just had to know who I was. I wasn't like her, at all. Once I figured that out, it didn't bother me so much anymore when people would tell me I had my mother's eyes. I guess because I knew it was better to have her eyes than her… personality."

I don't remember mentioning to Peeta the hard times I had with my mother and how bad it was for us right after my father's death, but maybe he had heard it from someone else. Or maybe he just knows, or maybe he felt he needed to tell me something about himself because of my own fear. Whatever the reason, I'm glad for it. I feel a smile creep onto my face, my head and back is leaning against his chest.

"Then you must know that you won't hurt me," I tell him.

"What I know is that I have the potential to," he corrects. I'm afraid he's going to try to reason his way into going to the Capitol, to allow Dr. Aurelius to do whatever tests they want him to do, so I turn around to face him, ready to begin another explanation of how he's making a mistake, but he stops me before I utter one word.

"I wasn't planning on going back there, Katniss," he says. "But I have to figure out a way to prevent what happened this morning from happening again. It's too dangerous to just ignore and pretend we can go on like it never happened."

"Then let me help. _We_ can figure it out," I say.

He smiles softly. "Okay," he says, then kisses me gently on the lips. "We'll figure it out together."


	4. Chapter 4

**You're in the homestretch! Enjoy!**

Chapter 4

I open my eyes and focus. My arrow is almost aligned to my target, my hand steady in my bow. My heart rate drops, keeping the rest of my body still. Just a bit more to the right and I could shoot him in the eye and he'd be dead. _I could kill him_, I think. _I could kill Peeta right now, if I wanted._ I hold my breath…and finally drop my bow and arrow.

"This is ridiculous!" I yell at him, at both of them. Haymitch is off to the side, observing. Waiting. Peeta's composure has changed from wooden to slacken.

It's been several weeks since Peeta's supposed near attack on me in the woods, and he's been trying to find a way to trigger those emotions again, but in a controlled environment, so that he can figure out how to stop himself from that rage again without me being in harm's way. I still believe he would've been able to stop himself, but he wants to be sure.

It's been slow going due to the weather, but every chance we got where it wasn't so cold or the snow wasn't falling, he pulled me outside to try something else. Of course, Haymitch was always with us during these things, because he didn't trust himself, doesn't trust himself, to be alone with me at those times.

Our first try was some hand-to-hand combat. At first it was suggested that he try it with Haymitch. It was clearly obvious in the first attempt that Haymitch wasn't going to be much of a challenge. Although Haymitch is still pretty strong, all the years of drinking have clearly affected his ability to move swiftly. After a couple of bouts, being pinned to the floor each time, Haymitch had had enough and went back into his house. He didn't speak to us the rest of the week. Only when he had run out of white liquor did he finally come by my house.

I wasn't any better. Peeta was really tentative to try any wrestling moves on me at first, but after a few minutes of my taunting, he took me down on his first attempt. I wasn't ready, of course, since I was caught off guard. He just laughed and kissed me on the nose. On the second attempt, I really tried to get serious and even put on a scowl for good measure. After the fifth time on my back, I realized that he was actually having more fun out of this than he should've been, considering this was supposed to bring out the rage in him. Haymitch was so bored, he had even snuck out during the middle of it. It didn't help that every time he took me down, it ended with a kiss, as if to apologize.

Finally, Peeta suggested that we go back to the woods. I was not happy about that at all. Not because I was scared that Peeta's rage would be inescapable. I had complete confidence in the fact that Peeta would not kill me, after all. But since it was later in the winter, many of the larger predators that frequent the deeper part of the woods would be hungrier during this time of the year and would risk searching farther out of their comfort zone, thus moving closer to our district in search of food. It would definitely be more dangerous for all of us. It's just another factor that could make a controllable situation incontrollable. But considering that's where it happened last time, it was obviously the perfect environment for Peeta's rage to come out.

However, what if I had too many distractions around me to deal with along with Peeta coming toward me? Would I be able to do what I had planned? I was forming out my own plan as well, trying to figure out what I could do if Peeta were to try to attack me again. I had it planned out in my head, but I didn't want to tell them, not even Haymitch. Haymitch would think I'd have lost my mind to even consider my idea. It would be risky, but I was sure of it. We just had to have the opportunity to see if it would work, which would mean pitting me against Peeta.

So, I finally agreed that our best course of action would be to go back into the woods. I insisted we stay close to the fence, to avoid any of the large predators. Even during the hardest part of winter, and Gale and I needed to go hunting, we tried not to venture too far out. So, this time, we go only to half the distance of where we were the last time, but it's far enough away from the fence to where the trees have blocked it out of view.

Now, here I am, standing only a few yards from Peeta, attempting to take a shot at him. Well, not at him directly, but at an "X"marked on a tree that is to the left of his head. The idea is that maybe this will trigger one of the hijacked memories the Capitol had planted in him. Peeta suggested it. For the first time in a long time, I am unsure of my shooting accuracy. If I strayed just enough to the right, I could hurt him, quite possibly kill him. I wouldn't be able to live with myself.

Peeta slowly walks up to me. "You won't hit me," he says.

"Peeta, I target the eyes. An 'X' on a tree, it's not going to work," I say.

"Should I have painted an eye on there?" he asks, somewhat jokingly.

"Maybe," I say. "All I see when I'm looking there is you. It's not helping," I tell him.

"Ah. Yes, I'm used to being of no help," he says. Now he's gone into the world of sarcasm, which clearly is not making anything better for me. I scowl. "Okay, sorry. Let's just see if you can hit it without me standing there."

I take several shots at the X, hitting it right on the mark each time. Clearly, eyes aren't the only targets I can hit. Of course, I've hit many other things aside from the eyes of animals. Ropes. Apples. Fake birds. Chinks in force fields.

"Now all you have to do is the exact same thing. Keep your focus on it. I trust you," Peeta whispers to me. I nod. I can do this. _I can do this._

Peeta moves back to his position, and as I'm positioning myself again, Haymitch moves to Peeta's left side and whispers something in Peeta's ear. Peeta nods in acknowledgement, but he's staring in my direction, his face is emotionless, his body stoic. He's not smiling at me at all. He's waiting. Waiting for me to shoot. Waiting for the rage to come. Waiting for this moment to determine how strong his willpower is.

I take aim at the X, my eyes focused on nothing more than the center of the X. I blank out everything surrounding it, the leaves, the sky, the colors, Peeta, Haymitch, even the tree itself, and center on the X. I feel my body inhale, then exhale, my left arm as stiff and solid as the bow it's holding. I pull the arrow and string back until it and my hand rests slightly against my right cheek.

In the split second it takes for me to release the arrow, I hear it. The sound of a mockingjay. It's not a song, just a chirp, really, but it's enough to jilt my arm just a fraction to the right upon its release.

The arrow doesn't land on the X this time. It lands just to the right of the X. No, it didn't hit Peeta, but something else does. Someone else. Haymitch has punched Peeta square in the jaw. _What?_

"Hey!" I yell, running towards Haymitch, dropping everything to use my whole body to attack him. It was enough. Enough to cause a stir in Peeta.

Before I can reach Haymitch, Peeta knocks me to the ground so hard that I'm disoriented as to who exactly it was that attacked me. Then I see Peeta standing above me, eyes menacing. He's not rushing, though. His movements are slow, but still he moves toward me.

"You! You're trying to kill me!" He yells. His voice is not the same. It's darker, deeper. It no longer possesses the melodic tones I'm used to hearing from him when he speaks, when he talks with reason and sense. When he speaks in love. Right now, he's speaking in anger, in rage. In pain, too.

"No, Peeta. I'm trying to protect you. We protect each other, remember?" I yell back. I see the confusion in his eyes. The black of his pupils and the blue of his irises fighting to overcome the other.

Haymitch is there, holding him back from me. He wants to knock him out again.

"Wait!" I tell Haymitch, as I catch my breath. "Just wait."

This is my chance to prove what I've known all along. The one thing that I had planned for this very moment. I steady myself, straighten as much of my body as I can from the position I'm in and take a deep breath to relax me, then take another one to start my song. The same song that my father used to sing to my mother years ago. The one that I sang to Peeta only a few months ago. Peeta starts yelling in Haymitch's grasp, struggling to break free.

_What else shall I see  
>Eyes bright and blue<br>You bring life to me  
>I've found myself in you<em>

My voice is weak with this first verse because I'm still trying to breathe normally. Peeta is still struggling, but I know he can hear me.

_What else can I feel  
>My heart so anew<br>My world has changed  
>I've found myself in you<em>

I slowly get up from the ground and steady myself as I look at him. His eyes are closed tight, but he is no longer fighting to get to me.

_What else do I say  
>What words are so true<br>Than the ones that express  
>My heart is with you<em>

Haymitch is no longer holding him. He stands back as I move closer to Peeta. I move my hand down to his arm, and he shudders slightly at my touch. He opens his eyes to me, and they are a deep blue now.

_What else am I for  
>If I'm not here for you<br>For I don't want to know  
>Cause I've found myself in you<em>

I look at him, and a faint smile forms on his lips. "What do you see?" I whisper.

"My healer," he whispers back, stroking my cheek. I wrap my arms around him, and bury my face in his neck as he strokes my hair and kisses my head.

I move my head up and over his shoulder as I look to Haymitch. I smile at him and my mouth forms the words thank you. Haymitch nods first, then furrows his brow and shakes his head as he smiles back. Yep, he definitely thinks I've lost my mind.

* * *

><p><strong>Thank you to all who read this story and I hope you enjoyed it. There will be more to come, so if you enjoyed this, then keep a lookout! And please don't hesitate to post your reviews and critiques. I welcome any suggestions, so long as they are constructive.<strong>

**Again thanks to Danalos the Lady Chaos (.net/u/35728/) for beta reading this. And finally, thanks to Suzanne Collins for creating such a wonderful story and creating such unforgettable characters.**


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